


“Do you like it?”

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: First Kisses [46]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Cormoran driving the BMW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 01:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16672084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: A brief return to the First Kisses series.





	“Do you like it?”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hobbeshalftail3469](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/gifts).



> For hobbeshalftail3469. Your “A Whole new meaning to Tailing a Suspect!” planted an image of how sexy Corm looks driving that BMW in my head, and this happened.

The train door swished open, and Robin hauled her case down the step onto the platform, setting on it on its wheels and pulling the handle up so she could tow it along behind her. Her day bag was slung over her shoulder. She was glad to get out of the train carriage. The August heat was oppressive and the long journey from Masham had been stuffy. She was looking forward to getting back to her flat.

Her eyes scanned the crowds, but she couldn’t see her business partner anywhere, and she was pretty sure she’d spot him if he was there. At six foot three he towered over most people. She suppressed a pang of disappointment. He was often late for social engagements, but he was always on time when he’d promised to meet her somewhere.

She fumbled for her ticket to show to the staff, made her way out onto the concourse. Still no sign of him. Then her phone pinged with an incoming message. She pulled it from her pocket to read it. Strike.

“Am outside. Traffic warden lurking.”

Smiling now, Robin made for the station entrance, towing her case. Her summer dress floated around her knees. It was a soft floral cotton, belted at the waist, in a green leafy pattern that suited her red gold hair and brought out the blue in her eyes. A light cream-coloured cardi was slung across her bag and her sunglasses were balanced on her head.

She stepped out of the station and looked around and spotted him at once, and something in her stomach tightened.

The dark blue BMW was squeezed into a space in the dropping off area, and her partner stood with his back to the driver’s door, leaning on it. He wore dark jeans and boots, as always, and a white T-shirt with surprisingly few creases in it. Sunglasses hid his eyes and his attention was on his phone as he tapped out a text. His shoulders were broad and muscular under the T-shirt and his jeans stretched taut across his thighs as he leaned casually on the car. He looked huge, gorgeous, almost sinister.

Robin paused, her eyes drinking him in. It felt like much longer than a week since she’d last seen him. Had he always been so sexy and she’d never noticed? He’d changed his hair - it was much shorter at the back and sides than usual, but still a riot of curls on top, a little damp in the heat.

He pressed his thumb to his phone screen, then looked up and around the station forecourt and saw her. He gave a small wave and Robin started, caught out staring. Flustered, she waved back, and then her phone pinged and she glanced down at it. It was him again. “Just in the dropping off bit.”

Smiling, Robin slid her phone into her pocket and approached him. He was grinning at her now, his teeth flashing white and contrasting with the dark shadow of his stubble. He stepped towards her as she walked up to him and bent to kiss her cheek and take her case. He smelled of shower gel and cologne and some kind of hair product, and the tightness in Robin’s stomach dropped straight to her knickers. _Stop it,_ she told herself. _He’s your boss._

“How was Masham?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling through the very core of her. Robin smiled and hoped she didn’t look as flustered as she felt.

“Good, thanks, I’ve had a great week. Lots of home cooked food and long walks. Mum sends her love,” she replied, smiling at the memory. Linda had in fact said it about three times. Robin knew her mother harboured a longing for Robin and Strike to get together, and looking at him now she found it hard to remember why she had decided that wasn’t a good idea.

“Sounds perfect,” he said, smiling, and carried her case round to the boot. He popped the hatch and swung the case easily into the car. Robin couldn’t keep her eyes off the ripple in the muscles across his shoulders and upper arms as he did so. She drew a slightly shaky breath as she made her way round behind him, round the car to the passenger door.

“Let’s get going before the traffic warden comes back. I’m not sure my intimidating vibes were going to do the trick much longer,” Strike said. _Oh, they were doing the trick all right,_ Robin thought, opening the door and sliding into the seat.

Strike slammed the boot and moved back to the driver’s door, opening it and swinging himself easily into the seat. Robin clipped her seat belt on and tried not to stare at his left hand on the wheel as his right slid the key into the ignition.

The engine hummed to life, and Tom Petty’s voice filled the car. “Sorry,” Strike said, reaching to turn the CD player off.

“No, I like it,” Robin said, so he contented himself with just turning the music down. He put his own belt on and slid the car from park into reverse, his left hand on the gear shift and his right on the wheel. He manoeuvred the car deftly out of the tight space he had squeezed it into, and glanced around, pushing the gear lever into drive.

“No warden,” he muttered. “Need to turn round, really.”

Both hands on the wheel now, he swung the car around in as tight a circle as it could make, but the slip road they were on wasn’t wide enough. Muttering darkly, he executed a swift three-point turn, manoeuvring the gear shift with his left hand, circling the steering wheel back and forth with the heel of his right. Robin almost whimpered at the sight of his dark, thickly-haired forearms, muscles rippling beneath tanned skin, large hands flexing. Why had she never noticed how big and strong his hands were?

The traffic warden was approaching with a scowl. Strike gave a broad, cheeky grin and pulled the BMW out into the traffic on Euston Road. Robin hid a smile at the glare he received in response.

Traffic was slow and the sun hot. Strike pressed the switch that opened the windows, and as soon as his had slid all the way down, he rested his right elbow on the sill, his fingers on the wheel tapping along with the music. His left hand rested idly on the bottom of the wheel, the black and silver of his watch catching glints of the August sun. His left thigh flexed under the denim of his jeans as he moved from brake to accelerator and back, keeping pace with the traffic.

Robin couldn’t stop staring. She gave a sudden start as she realised he’d said something to her and she had no idea what it was. “Sorry?” she said, flushing. He glanced across at her, amused.

“Just asked how your parents are,” he said. He’d met Michael and Linda a couple of times since Robin and Matthew’s wedding which he’d made himself rather unpopular by gatecrashing, and all seemed to be forgiven these days, particularly now that Robin was divorced.

“Oh, yes, they’re fine, thanks,” Robin said, still flustered. He’d caught her looking. To cover herself, she added, “You've done something different with your hair.”

Strike raised his left hand to the back of his neck, self-conscious suddenly. “Yeah,” he said. “Decided to go shorter at the sides because it’s so hot, but I can’t go too short on top or it just sticks straight up. Got to leave some curl.” He cast a sideways glance at her. “Do you like it?”

Robin took the opportunity to gaze openly at him. Truthfully, she did. The shape emphasised the cut of his jaw somehow. She nodded. “I do,” she said, and was rewarded with a shy half-smile that made her stomach flip.

He didn’t say anything, just nodded quietly. He flicked the indicator on with a dexterous finger and then swung the car out onto the main route in the direction of Robin’s flat. The traffic flowed more smoothly here. The breeze stirred the hairs on his arm, ruffled his curls, and Robin forced herself to look ahead and keep the conversation light. Her eyes were drawn back to him again and again, though.

It was like a puzzle her brain wanted to solve. How could he be so familiar, so much the same as he always was, and yet suddenly so different, so handsome? Was it the hair, the shortness of it at the back and sides, the riotous curls on top begging her fingers to run through them? Was it the T-shirt that made his tanned arms seem darker, and stretched taut across his broad shoulders? Was it the sunglasses that almost hid his eyes and gave him that slightly sinister air? Was it the driving, the confident way he handled the car now that he was used to being behind the wheel again, his big hands deft and sure?

It’s all of it, she thought. And the fact that I haven’t seen him for a week so I’m really looking at him now. Heat coiled in her midriff and she had to mentally sit on her right hand to keep it from reaching out to stroke his forearm that was so close to hers, to see if the hair was as soft as it looked.

All too soon, they pulled up outside her flat. Miraculously there was a space relatively close by. Strike pulled the BMW slightly past it and slid it into reverse. His eyes on his mirrors and the traffic behind, his left hand moved automatically to the headrest of Robin’s seat as he twisted his upper body to see behind, still watching all around, reversing neatly into the space. For a few delicious seconds, Robin could gaze straight at him while his attention was focused elsewhere. He was so close to her, his dark eyes flicking to the mirrors and the traffic, his heavy brows drawn together in a slight frown of concentration. She could see a few hints of grey in the hair at his temples and in the stubble along his jaw. How long had they been there? A waft of his cologne reached her and she thought she might actually be in danger of melting into a little puddle on the leather seat.

Car parked, Strike glanced at her and their eyes met in a moment of connection. Robin was sure she must have given herself away, and dropped her gaze quickly.

“Sorry,” Strike muttered, realising how close he was and drawing his arm away.

“It’s fine,” Robin said lightly, a slight huskiness in her voice. She unclipped her seat belt. “Thank you for the lift. Do you, er, want to come in?”

Strike looked at her for a moment, and she felt herself blush. “Best not,” he said reluctantly. “Don’t think I can leave the car here long.”

Robin nodded, and risked a glance across at him. Why was he so much more intimidating when his focus was on her, those dark eyes piercing her thoughts? _It’s just Cormoran,_ she told herself. _You’ve known him for years now._

Their eyes met again and she knew she wasn’t imagining the heat between them. “Well, thank you,” she said again.

He smiled gently. “Any time, Robin.”

It was the sound of her name that did it, the B soft and imperfectly formed due to the scar on his top lip. On impulse she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. She felt him start a little at the unexpectedness of it, and then he stilled. Her lips lingered on his stubble, closer to his jaw than his cheek because of the awkward angle, and heat swept through her.

She lingered a beat too long, knew he’d have noticed. She drew back reluctantly, her eyes seeking his, and the intensity in his gaze actually made her jump slightly. Their eyes locked together for a moment, a moment that stretched, and then he leaned over and kissed her.

He was a little hesitant, just for a moment, but the soft, involuntary sound Robin made in her throat at the touch of his lips to hers gave him his answer, and he pressed forward more insistently. His mouth was firm and sure on hers, and her lips parted willingly for him, inviting him to explore. Desire jumped within her when his tongue touched her bottom lip, and she shivered.

With a small growl, he opened his mouth over hers. His left hand moved from the gear lever to slide into her hair and his tongue explored, gently plundering her mouth, sending waves of pleasure through her. Robin trembled with arousal as he kissed and kissed her, her hand creeping across to rest on his leg, fingers flexing on his muscular thigh.

They kissed for a long minute, and then Strike drew back gently, his eyes seeking hers again, hesitant, questioning. Robin smiled shyly, shakily, and then suddenly he was grinning at her.

“Welcome home,” he said softly, and she giggled a little.

“Sure you won’t come in? I’ve got a pressie for you in my case,” Robin said, thinking of the Black Sheep bottled beer she’d bought him.

He grinned again. “I guess the car could stay here for a little while,” he said, and turned the engine off.

They climbed out of the car. Robin was surprised to find her legs wobbly. _That was some kiss,_ she thought, the heat of it still echoing though her, hot in her groin, trembling in her heart.

Strike lifted her suitcase out of the boot, swung it shut and locked the car. Still smiling, an almost dazed look on his face, he held out a hand to her. “Shall we?”

Shyly, Robin slipped her hand into his and they climbed the steps to her front door.

**Author's Note:**

> [This hair!](https://lulacat3.tumblr.com/post/180303042230/hobbeshalftail3469-thank-you)


End file.
